But perhaps a small breakthrough in the political stand-off

A MONTH after its disputed presidential election, Kenya remains deeply divided and unstable. Politically motivated killings, hackings and gang rapes continue in the towns and in volatile country districts. The economy is faltering. The latest bigwig to attempt to mediate between the government of President Mwai Kibaki and the opposition Orange Democratic Movement of Raila Odinga is a former UN secretary-general, Kofi Annan, who arrived in Nairobi on January 22nd. “We have not come with a solution. We are here to insist on a solution,” he announced.

A glimmer of hope for an end to the political impasse appeared on January 24th when Mr Kibaki's government announced it would set up a commission to investigate allegations of vote-rigging, although a surprised opposition said it had not been consulted. Later the same day, however, as The Economist went to press, Messrs Kibaki and Odinga were due to meet for the first time since the election. International election observers agree that Mr Kibaki stole the decisive votes to win the election. But Mr Kibaki has since taken a grip on power by appointing loyalists to key ministries.

His strategy is to drag out negotiations long enough for business, faced with mounting losses, to fall in behind him. He also expects many ordinary Kenyans, seeing their jobs disappear, to accept his second five-year term. The Orange strategy is to continue unsettling the markets with calls for mass actions and boycotts of companies in which Mr Kibaki's backers have a stake. Orange leaders hope foreign countries will start applying pressure on Mr Kibaki. They want an interim government overseen by the African Union or another international party, with elections in two years, in which Mr Kibaki would not be allowed to run.

If anything, the mood is getting angrier. The Oranges say they have filed a case with the International Criminal Court accusing the government of crimes against humanity for shooting dead dozens of protesters. The government promises a counter-claim to The Hague, charging Orange leaders with “mass genocide” in the Rift Valley. “Very soon, they as individuals, not as a party, will be languishing in jail,” says a government official.

What has happened is not a genocide, nor is Kenya anywhere close to being a failed state. But the killings and clearances have been grisly and wretched. When the dead rotting in the maize fields or pulled apart in the wilds by hyenas are eventually counted, over 1,000 Kenyans are likely to have been killed since the election. More than 250,000 have been displaced.

Most of the victims have been Kikuyu. But reprisals are likely. The Mungiki, a ferocious Kikuyu gang the government tried to eliminate with killing squads last year, has already been rehabilitated in some of Nairobi's slums. Some of the killings in the Rift Valley appear to have been premeditated by elders of the Kalenjin, a group of tribes that speak a similar language. Many reckon the chain of command runs all the way to leading Oranges. Elsewhere, the violence has been more spontaneous, with diverse mobs finding common grievance in perceived Kikuyu arrogance and economic domination.

Unfortunately, calls for peace by a multitude of Kenyan groups, including nearly all of the country's business and religious leaders, have been undermined by posturing. The government has used taxpayer money to publish inflammatory newspaper advertisements depicting the Oranges as “warlords of violence” and accusing diplomats of incitement for questioning the election result. And if the government propaganda is meant to stir up fear among Kikuyus, Mr Odinga is hardly making them feel more comfortable. “Our people are being killed like dogs, but no amount of bullets or intimidation will stop us,” he told an emotional rally in Kisumu on January 21st. His people were asking for guns, he said, but he promised them the ballot box. If necessary, Mr Odinga will seek to make his opposition stronghold of western Kenya ungovernable from Nairobi.

There is a chance that Kenya has matured enough to outflank both its demons and its politicians. The Kenyan media council has shown the way by refusing to air inflammatory government radio advertisements. The stakes are high. A complete meltdown in Kenya may set back the entire continent. It would deter investment, distract attention and resources from Darfur and Somalia, and slow down Africa's push for democracy. But it is also a defining moment for Kenya. In the coming months the country may have a chance to break with the worst excesses of corruption, or else slide into even nastier civil conflict.